


bottle it up

by sevenminutes



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenminutes/pseuds/sevenminutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rachel and Jesse end up as rival showchoir directors in NYC, the competition gets personal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bottle it up

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas gift for my best friend, [](http://androgenyus.livejournal.com/profile)[androgenyus](http://androgenyus.livejournal.com/)! I was listening to 'bottle it up' by Sara Bareilles and that is really the only explanation for the title. I'm pretty sure it doesn't even make sense.

She sees him again at a professional conference of all places. The thought of them both ending up in the same profession, and having that not be acting? The odds seem astronomical.

But science has never been her strong suit, so she just keeps sipping demurely on her punch, wishing, not for the first time, that it was spiked. Her eyes follow him as he moves around the event room, charming people left and right, and she resists the urge to start gulping her drink to quench her suddenly dry throat.

Talking to the choir director from some middle school in Brooklyn, she senses him approaching her from behind. Suddenly she smells eucalyptus and leather, and she feels the slightest bit faint. It’s so familiar, more familiar and nostalgic than it should be.

Smiling shakily, she excuses herself, hoping to get away before he can pull her back into his web.

“Hello, Rachel.”

Too late.

She takes a deep breath, smelling only him, and turns, plastering on her fakest smile.

“Jesse St. James.”

For a second, he just stares at her, like maybe he’s imagining her naked underneath her cotton, floral, so-casual-it’s-obvious-she’s-trying-too-hard-to-be-perfect dress, but then it’s gone and he’s the same old cocky asshole that he always was.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says nonchalantly, sidling up to her to lean against the wall, intentionally too close. “I thought you were supposed to be Evita’s understudy?”

Rachel tenses immediately, resisting the urge to throw what’s left of her drink in his face. Of course he had to bring _that_ up.

“Yes, well.” She coughs a little awkwardly. “That didn’t work out.”

“Why not?” The response is immediate, his grin a mile wide.

“None of your business.”

“A good friend of mine is fucking the Che in that production,” he fires back, moving to stand and whipping out his phone. “I can find out.”

“Fine, then,” she invites through gritted teeth. “Find out.”

She rolls her eyes, walking away from him to grab more crackers from the refreshment table. She has to be stuck here for another two hours, they all do, which means that she needs to come up with a better way to avoid him than simply changing location. Because, like an attention deprived Pomeranian, he’s right on her heels, following after her.

Rachel sighs, trying to ignore him and pay attention to the speaker at the front of the room, but he’s just so…present. She can’t help but have her attention drawn to him.

“What are you even doing here?” she hisses finally. “Aren’t you supposed to be wasting your trust fund in Europe? Putting off working for as long as possible even though thirty is approaching damn fast? Pathetic.”

“Well, I’ve gotten a real job.” He cracks his knuckles before crossing his arms. “I’ve become an educator. Like you.”

She still feels sick at that title. Even though she’s fortunate enough to work with the most talented students in the city, even though she’s not scrounging together her rent in dimes as she would be if she was waitressing to finance her dreams. She still feels like a failure whenever she’s reminded that she’s a _teacher_ and not a _star_.

She barely spares a glance at him, narrowing her eyes.

“I fear for America’s youth with _you_ guiding them.” She sighs, trying to sound unaffected as she takes the bait that he laid out for her. “And where have you started this illustrious career?”

“The Dalton School,” he shrugs, naming the most exclusive, prestigious, and expensive private school in the city.

“Oh?” She knows he knows where she works, and she can’t help the smug grin on her face.

“Yep. And we’re going to beat you this year.”

She can’t stop herself, a small snort of laughter escaping, even as her hand flies up to cover her mouth.

“Really?” She shakes her head, grinning. “You always did have the best sense of humor. That is just hilarious, Jesse.”

“I mean it.”

“I work at LaGuardia. It’s the best arts school in the city. My kids have a _passion_ for this. I have a group of seniors that I’ve been training for _four_ years. We won Nationals last year.”

“And I’m still going to beat you.”

Frankly, it’s laughable to her, and she’s not sure how she keeps it together for the rest of the conference without laughing at Jesse.

 

&.

After they’re set free from where they were being held hostage, Jesse throws her a grin and nods down the street, mumbling “come on, for old time’s sake?” She just can’t say no to him. Their relationship had made her stronger in a lot of ways, but not being able to say no would always be a weakness of hers.

They end up at a bar seven blocks from the hotel, and the oddest thing happens.

She remembers why she fell in love with him.

After three gin and tonics it’s not anything close to a moment of clarity, but there’s a realization in there somewhere, nostalgia echoing in her chest as she meets his eyes in the low lighting.

“Be honest,” she coos, employing the most gentle tone that she can muster when talking about a competition. “You don’t _really_ think that you’re going to beat me…do you?”

He purses his lips, taking a deep breath and sip of scotch before answering.

“No.” There’s a pause and she starts to smile, curling her body closer to his. The cotton dress that’s almost too light for this late in summer is starting to feel suffocating and she’s about three compliments and two more drinks away from begging him to take it off her. “I _know_ I am.”

And just like that, a switch flips.

Rachel’s hand had been resting on his arm and she digs her nails into his wrist, clenching her jaw as she stares him down.

“What?”

“I said, I know I’m going to beat you.” He’s unfazed as he leans in close to her, so close that she can smell the scotch and peanuts he’s been consuming. He looks down at her hand, like it’s almost precious how offended she is.

She pulls back and stands, looking at him like he’s really lost it.

“You _know it_? How do you _know_ it?”

“I’m better at this than you are,” he says matter-of-factly, shrugging as he downs the rest of his drink.

Oh dear God…he was _serious_. He really did think he was better than her. It’s as if she can’t even process what he’s saying to her. What universe could this be true in?

“I’ve been doing this for five years!” she shrieks, drawing the stares of some of their fellow patrons.

“So? I’m still better.”

“You can’t just say that!” Her chest is heaving as she fumes, her face flushed with anger, and she’s gripping his shoulder tightly, but it’s only in an effort to keep from slapping him.

“Of course I can. It’s _true_.” At that, he turns on his barstool, his hand sliding around her waist to pull her into his lap with a spark in his eye. He smiles at her, the competitive smirk that she always found so sexy, and her cheeks start burning.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She manages to keep the indignant tone, even as she starts to feel warmer than she should in her light cotton dress.

“You’re blushing,” he whispers against the shell of her ear, not bothering to answer her question or even acknowledge that she spoke. “Do you doubt that I can perform up to your standards?”

She knows that they’re not talking about the competition anymore and she meets the bartender’s eyes to signal for another drink. She wants anything she can get to distract from her answer. Sliding an ice cube from her empty glass into her mouth, she considers the possibilities before her as she wraps her arm around his neck.

If she says _yes_ , it really means _no_. She’ll awkwardly hop off his lap and he’ll pay for the drinks anyway even though this really did turn out to be nothing. He’ll offer to share a cab but she’ll just shake her head, pulling her arms around her middle. They’ll walk in opposite directions and they won’t see each other until their first competition.

If she’s honest and says no, that she’s never once doubted him, then things get interesting. That’s the unpredictable part. Certainly, they’ll have sex tonight, but then what? A relationship? Regular meetings at each other’s places where they eat Chinese food, flirt, and tease about whose team is progressing faster?

She knows which option she’d rather have and, as the bartender puts the fresh drink in her hand, Rachel slowly shakes her head. A black stir stick caught between her teeth, she smiles coyly at him.

“Of anyone, you would make a _worthy_ opponent,” she tells him, leaning in closer. Her drink in her left hand grazes the skin of his neck and she feels him shiver and tighten his arm around her.

“Damn straight I would.”

She nods, bringing the drink to her lips to drain half of it at once. This is the stupidest thing she’s done in a while and she wants to be good and drunk for it. Looking over at Jesse, she waits for him to make his move, chewing on the straw in her mouth.

He meets her eyes for a moment, almost like he’s searching for something, before he throws fifty dollars down on the bar and spins his stool around. Grinning as he takes the drink from her, he sets her on her feet and wraps his arm around her waist.

“How about we get out of here?”

It’s not even a question.

 

&.

She doesn’t do much thinking in the cab ride, not with Jesse’s hand up her skirt and his mouth alternating between whispering filthy things in her ear and assaulting her neck with kisses. It’s too early for turtlenecks or scarves, but she’s not about to stop him from leaving marks on her.

She can’t quite figure out why she’s not angry at him anymore, but that thought gets pushed aside as she turns her head to meet his lips for a kiss. She moans into his mouth as she comes around his fingers, clinging to him as the cab comes to an especially jerky stop.

Jesse coughs and pays the driver as Rachel straightens her dress and climbs out, sparing a glare for the cabbie.

“You just _know_ he was enjoying the show and then he—” She’s cut off with a kiss from Jesse, and by the time he pulls away, his teeth grazing her lower lip, she can’t remember why she was so upset.

Jesse licks his lips and grins as he punches in the code for his front door. There’s something he’s not saying. Crossing her arms, Rachel narrows her eyes at him.

“What? You look like a little kid that just found his Halloween candy stash.”

He shrugs, ushering her into the elevator. “Nothing, it’s just nice to know that it still works.”

“That _what_ still works?” She knows she has to be making one of the least sexy faces of all time, but he laughs, grinning widely as he comes over to trap her against the back wall of the elevator.

“My ability to render you speechless with a kiss.”

With those soft words, Rachel feels her pulse quicken. It’s true, and she’s fairly certain that it always will be. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, she blushes.

“Oh, and of course you’re completely unaffected by me?” To make her point, she plasters herself against him, their hips just barely managing to meet before the elevator chimes to signal their arrival on his floor.

“I never said that,” he points out, looking back at her as he drags her down the hall.

She can tell he’s just moved here by the way he struggles with the lock (though that could have been her hand on his belt) and she makes a mental note to ask him about it as she kisses his neck, just below his ear.

They stumble through the apartment with Jesse leading the way in between kisses, shoes, her sweater, his belt and shirt all getting lost along the way.

He pushes her down onto the bed, not even waiting for an invitation to unzip her dress.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” she breathes, shoving his pants down over his hips.

Momentarily blinded by a wash of yellow and pink as he lifts her dress over her head, her eyes immediately search for his again in the dark room as she pulls him closer by the hand.

“Eleven years?” he smirks, sliding his hands up her back to find the closure for her bra.

It’s more like her whole life, but she’s not about to say that to him, so she just kisses him, biting his lip lightly for being such a smartass.

“Something like th-that— oh, god!” she moans suddenly, biting her lip as she looks down at her chest.

It’s almost amazing. Finn was never able to touch her breasts and make her feel like this, always claiming that there wasn’t enough there to do it right. But Jesse is teasing one nipple lightly before rolling it between his fingers, alternately gently grazing his teeth and sucking on the other one. Between all this attention and the orgasm she had in the cab, Rachel is tugging impatiently on the waistband of his boxers.

“Someone’s impatient,” he grins up at her, his own tone more breathless than teasing.

“I’ve been waiting eleven years, remember?” she shoots back, pulling him onto the bed with her as she tugs insistently at his waistband again.

“I do,” he mutters, pinning her to the bed and kissing her senseless. As his tongue plunges into her mouth she feels him rip the sides of her panties and she pushes him back a little.

“Was that _really_ necessary?”

“Probably not,” he shrugs with a smirk, cocky and so sure that he’s just that good.

Rachel is sure, too, that the fuck will be well worth the cost of new underwear, if the bulge that she can feel is any indication. His fingers find her clit again as he kisses every inch of her exposed skin, taking care to leave marks on her collarbone and her breasts. His mouth keeps moving lower and lower, and with each kiss Rachel’s whole body hums and tingles.

“ _Fuck_ , Jesse!” He kisses the inside of her thigh, and she just wants to cry. She’s so close to coming again, but she’s been making it clear that she wants him. She doesn’t want his fingers or his tongue, she wants his cock. So when he bends his head, she pulls him back up.

“What?” He looks offended for a second before adopting a soft, soothing tone. “It’s okay, you know. I know some women are freaked out by having a mouth down there, but _I promise_ , I’ve never gotten any complaints—”

“Stop stalling and fuck me,” she interrupts, taking his face between her hands so that he’ll see she’s serious. “I’ll let you spend hours with your head down there next time but now? Fuck. Me.”

She doesn’t have time to consider that she just proposed a next time, because he rolls away for just a second before he’s back, blissfully naked.

“Better?” he laughs lightly, moving to kneel between her legs.

“ _Much_.” She smiles widely at him before her gaze drops to his cock and she just stares for a second, sighing as she bites her lip. Sounding more amazed than nervous, she whispers, “Oh god we’re really doing this.”

“That we are,” Jesse smiles, kissing her again as he palms her breast. “Do I need to find a condom?”

“Are you clean?” she asks, running her hand through his hair and tugging so she can get a look at his face.

“Yes,” he says confidently, nodding without hesitation, and she just believes him.

“Then we’re fine. No condom, just you,” she responds, deciding to break her rule of never having unprotected sex with someone the first time. Because Jesse isn’t just anyone, her brain reminds her. He’s her—

 _Rival showchoir director._ That’s all he is to her right now, and that reminder makes her stomach flip a little. For the second time in their relationship, he’s the enemy. But, much like the first time, she couldn’t care less. She just _wants_ him.

She’s been wet and wanting him since her second drink at the bar, so it’s a relief when he finally gets into position, looking up at her to wait for her nod of permission.

“Just us,” he corrects her, pushing inside her slowly.

Rachel’s head falls back against the pillows behind her, her back arching to meet his thrust as she whimpers. “Oh g-god, Jesse…”

He groans softly against her neck before he starts to move, immediately setting a steady pace that hits just the right place inside her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Rachel pulls him closer, moving her hips with his.

“Fuck, you f-feel—” he breaks off, shaking his head as he kisses her lips.

“Y-yes?” She can’t help the way her stomach flips a little, almost expecting something negative even though she knows it won’t be.

“So good, _so good_ , Rachel.” She closes her eyes as he seems to worship her body, touching and kissing everything lips and hands could reach, making every part of her feel alive with his cock driving into her over and over again.

But it’s not enough. Rachel whines low in her throat, her heels digging into his ass. “Harder. _More_.”

There’s a mumbled curse into the curve of her neck, something that sounds like _Christ_ , and then Jesse’s practically pounding into her, his thumb pressing a counter-rhythm into her clit. It’s perfect, and she bites her lip, nodding and whimpering.

“Like my cock?” he rasps into her ear, earning him a frantic nod.

“Yes. _Yes_. Oh, fuck,” she gasps, feeling her orgasm approaching. “Yes!”

Her hips buck up against his as she comes hard around his length, her walls pulsing and clenching, her heels urging him deeper. It’s easily the best orgasm she’s ever had, and when she opens her eyes, she actually sees spots.

She was expecting him to come right after her, but he’s still thrusting as strong and even as ever, not giving her even a moment to catch her breath before she feels another orgasm building inside her.

The only way she can tell he’s affected is the litany of fuck, fuck, Rachel, that’s mumbled against the skin of her shoulder.

“Jesse—” She bites her lip as she reaches up to run her hands through his slightly damp hair. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch and she can only imagine how tense his muscles must be with her own burning just from meeting his movements. Suddenly, his hands are focused only on her hips and he’s driving into her deeper and faster than she thought possible. It feels too good, too right. “Oh _god_.”

“Jesus, Rachel. Fuck, I’m—” He breaks off with a strangled grown, thrusting into her one last time before he spills himself inside her. The feeling of him filling her has Rachel coming again, wrapping her arms around him to pull him down for deep kiss.

Once they both come back to themselves a little, Jesse presses his forehead against hers, smiling. Rachel stretches her shoulders as she wraps her arms all the way around him.

“Worth the eleven-year wait?” he asks, laughing into the curve of her neck.

Turns out, the joke is on him. Because it was.

“Maybe,” she responds teasingly, making the first syllable last far longer than it should have. “But don’t think I’m going to spill all my secrets just because we’re fucking now.”

“Are we?”

“We are.”

“Okay, well, I don’t need your secrets, because like I keep telling you…I’m just better.”

“Sure you are, baby,” she responds condescendingly, kissing him quickly.

Only time would tell.

 

&.  
the end.


End file.
